Empathy
by Gale
Summary: Severus Snape was made by his own misfortunes in school. When the past risks repeating itself through students in his own house, can he afford to react? (yes, it's an original character. may have OotP spoilers later, so beware. RR plz ch2 added)
1. Default Chapter

Empathy

- A Harry Potter Fanfic - 

*Written by Gale*

Disclaimer - JK Rowling's characters belong to her. I'm not getting a dime, and I wouldn't ask for one even if I could.

Important Note - Yes, there be an original character in here. She's mine. As of yet she's unnamed (and for a good reason), but she's still mine. Yes, I know there is hardly a single fic topic in existence that hasn't been used in a Harry Potter fic. The problem is that most of the topics are taken first by people that can't write. I'm hoping that, if my idea's been used, I can do this one justice.

Chapter #1: Nameless Face in a Hundred Slytherins

Everyone knew that it was practically impossible for any teacher at Hogwarts, save perhaps Dumbledore, to know the names of every student attending, even all the names of those in their own House. Well, the staff did, anyway. Somehow, there seemed to be some assumed code among the students that each employee should live by: this involved remembering the name of each kid they taught -- at least when passing out assignments or calling them down. That was theory, anyhow. It certainly explained the shocked and disappointed looks on young faces when an instructor still had to ask a child their name after so many years of teaching them. 

For Severus Snape, despite being a glaring perfectionist when it came to his work, this was no different. It became blatantly obvious, too, when he paused in the middle of a lecture to drop a fast admonishment on a Slytherin fifth year, and he realized mid-sentence that he did not know her name. What bothered him most about noticing was that he might not have needed to do anything at all were she not behaving so strangely in the first place. 

This student of his was _muttering. _The word, in itself, does not make the occurrence wholly remarkable, which was why when he first heard the sound and identified it as such, he exercised his craft for bias, paid her no mind and went about with the lesson. It may very well have been two Slytherins in the back of the room gossiping about whatever when they were supposed to pay attention, but being Slytherin, that whole description of action translated into "no problem at all," mainly because Snape liked to watch the Gryffindors writhe. Either way, if the above were true, then the noise should have stopped after a minute or so.

But it didn't. Still muttering. And one voice. 

His capacity to ignore the wrongdoings of his own house members could not be considered more admirable given the circumstances, but his tension was beginning to show in the tightening of his diction as he delivered a walkthrough for the day's potion. Still no end within sight, still low murmurs, until finally Snape's loss of patience for the situation at hand carried right into the lecture with him. "_…And after properly cleaning the bezo-**Are you quite finished, miss?**_" he demanded, barely stopping himself from slamming his wand down on the worktable he'd been looming over. 

That gave the two students sitting there quite a start, but as his attention shifted fully to the back of the room where the _ceaselessly _jabbering Student still sat, it became clear that only those pupils within reach of him were actually paying complete attention -- and that was out of fear. Most everyone else had _also _noticed what this girl was doing, and between that and Snape's freely over-boiling temper, there wasn't much to _not _feel at least wary about. 

Lip curling up into a near-snarl, the Potions Master strode back toward her worktable, the eyes behind his perpetual curtain of greasy hair narrowed in consternation. His pace slowed and vastly undermined the amount of sinister drama needed to strike his usual bolt of fear into the heart of his current quarry, however, when he was close enough to hear the nonsense coming out of the girl's mouth. 

"…gonnagetintroublecan'tsheseehe'sangrywhywon'tshestopscarygonenutterswhat'sthematterwithherstrangesstrangestrangestange…."

She was rocking back and forth over her desk, stringy hair obscuring her eyes until Snape was nearer to her, which were a dry red around the irises and sunken deep into her skull, seemingly focused on nothing. 

"Stop," he said firmly.

"…isshestilldoingthattokeepfromgettingintroublesnapesgoingtostartscreaminginsaneloonymadwhatsherproblemscary…."

Severus' brow twitched with hesitation before he brought his hand down flat against the tabletop. The resound of the impact made her head shoot up in surprise, and her gaze froze on his. 

But she was silent. 

That is, of course, until she burst into tears. 

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Chapter 2

Empathy

- A Harry Potter Fanfic - 

*Written by Gale*

Disclaimer - Only the oc is mine. Everyone else belongs to Rowling. In the words of the great Stephanie Lostimolo: "No Touchy, No Stealy. As I side note, I realize this is one of the shortest pieces I've ever put out on the internet. I guarantee it will get longer. 

Chapter #2:

There had certainly been times when Severus Snape handled a sticky situation better. As it was, while his order for his hysteric student's to compose herself in the hall left him saving his reputation as a heartless tightass, something about the whole thing made him feel sick to his stomach. All the same, he was able to finish conducting class, and his pupils were more anxious than usual to pile themselves out of the door once he dismissed them. Their near simultaneous exits, as with the rest of the hour, had not managed to purge from his mind the episode he'd just experienced at the hands of some neurotic child. A child he'd been unable to name until he checked the roster.

Jane Wheldon. 

Well, it was really no wonder that he could not place her face with the name. She certainly didn't look like a Jane. Then again, he, himself, did not know _of _many Janes, so he lacked a basis for comparison as far as _that _excuse went. But now wasn't the time to waste on extraneous thoughts. Rather than attempt to deduce the situation based on what he'd seen, he figured he should go to the source, or what he perceived to be the source, and speak to Jane herself.

If she hadn't taken off with the rest of the class, anyway -- not like it would be difficult to track her down; they were all returning to the common room. But as this entire endeavor required leaving the classroom, he felt himself slipping into his usual foreboding guise, since certain jobs were simply finished faster if everyone stayed out of his way. It'd become so natural over time, to make one's every move strike a sense of caution into any whom he might encounter. Reflection upon that, alone, drew a smirk to his face, which just as quickly vanished as he approached the door and stepped out. He was not above allowing his robes to flourish dramatically as he crossed the threshold, an action that, if done by any other individual, might have seemed hammy -- 

Of course, he might have come off as slightly more sinister, had upon a small start his heel not skidded on the floor, jerking the rest of himself to a halt. His purpose for emergence stood rather patiently with her back to the wall, staring at her feet in a manner expectant of punishment. 

"Have you been standing here the whole time?"

She nodded and shifted uncomfortably on a frame that might have been considered sturdy, had her posture not given away some aspect of self-conscious vulnerability, of course. At first glance, it did not appear she wanted to be there, nor did she seem to wish to return to the common room with the other students. If she had, she would have gone. 

Well, she wasn't muttering anymore, a sure plus. In spite of all his preparation for overall intimidation, Severus found himself drawling at her all the more patiently than should have been humanely possible. "Do you want to explain to me what happened, Miss Whedon?"

"Wheldon."

"_Well?" _

She bit her lip as she watched herself trace an odd pattern on the stone floor with one foot. 

"Miss Wheldon, being in your fifth year attending both this school _and _my class, you have surely come to learn that I do _not _like repeating myself." Well, there went the whole patience bit.

"I -- I don't know, sir. I'm sorry," she uttered. 

"You don't know." If Snape had a sickle for every time a student told him that he or she _didn't know _after wreaking some sort of havoc on his watch_, _he would have had enough money to fill an entire bank. "Miss Weston, if--"

"_Wheldon." _

"_Whatever!" _he snapped, satisfied by the cringe he set her to. "If you are lying to me, and if that little _scene _you made in my classroom was your idea of a joke, you'll be spending your best evenings of this school year in detention. Is that clear?"

More than once, she opened her mouth to interrupt him, but a forceful edge on his voice through and through kept any objections from coming to be. She finally looked at him again, and part of him expected her to start crying again. Thankfully, just another nod. 

"Now, to the hopsital wing with you."

"The hospital wing?"

"Don't ask questions, child, just go. Tell Madame Pomfrey I sent you, and I'll be along shortly."

TO BE CONTINUED…


End file.
